


Changing minds

by SassyJane



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-03-30
Packaged: 2017-12-07 00:29:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 18,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/741979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassyJane/pseuds/SassyJane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Supernatural hunter Jane Matthews is sent to Massachusetts by Bobby Singer to get rid of a Siren. She runs into the Winchester boys and teams up to solve the case. But, what happens when the thing you're hunting isn't what you thought it was?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Siren

BEEP BEEP BEEP.

"Go away." I mumble quietly.

BEEP BEEP BEEP.

"I don't care." I roll over and pulled the pillow further down over my ears.

BEEP BEEP BEEP.

"Goddamnit!" I pick up the stupid silver thing on my bedside table, considering throwing it out the window, thinking better of it, and answer the phone to hear Bobby's drawling accent washing over me.

"I finished the case last night, it's all-"

"Jane, it's a Siren."

"What are you talking about?"

"There's a siren tumblin' round in Massachusetts, need you to go check it out before too many more poor beggars kill their wives and stuff."

"Massachusetts? You better be freakin' skipping that i'm in Delaware right now."

"Positively jumpin' for joy," He replied, obviously not jumping for joy.

"How many so far?"

"Seven, a lot more than usual- that's why i'm asking you, we needed someone down there quick, and I heard you'd been around there for a few weeks. How was the wraith?"

"Easy, cornered it and gave it a little taste of the family silver." I answered, a little smug.

"Well whoop-dee-doo you. Get goin' then." I go to reply, then hear the ding signalling the call has been ended. Damnit Bobby.

I gather up the remnants from last night's to-go meal and throw them in the trash, along with the notes I no longer needed about the last case. Did I have time for a shower? I looked at my watch: 8:42 am. Peak traffic. Ugh. I had time for a shower and a little bit of stupid childhood cartoons on morning tv. I pull off my grubby jeans, and flung them into my sports bag. Off with the blouse, singlet, underwear. I step under the warm, thundering spray that smells like cleaning product, and I am almost home again.

Almost.

I stay under the misty veil that shrouds me in warmth and comfort until my fingers are wrinkled and the blisters and callouses stand out against my pale palms.

I turn off the water that has begun to run cool, and let the droplets left on my body run down and collect at my feet. Sometimes, after a stressful case, I take a bath. When I let the bathwater run away, I imagine it pulls away all my negativity and hatred and anger and washes them away. Or at least erodes them part-way. We all need release somehow, a friend, a partner, a lover. But in this business, it pays to not become attached. To put distance between yourself and others is the way to stay unharmed. Or at least keep them unharmed.

I work my way into semi-clean clothes and lay on the bed for a few minutes. I check my phone, and find nothing. Thank god.

I lug my bag out of the motel room and dump it into the boot. I jump into my beautiful '83 Thunderbird and set course for Massachusetts.

The Thunderbird kicks up gravel as I pull into another sleazy motel, this time in Boston. I look through my bag and pull the first credit card I touch. Mandy Brooks. It'll do.

I walk through the doors and am greeted by the stench of sweat, chips, andSomething I can't quite put my finger on... Cinnamon? At the counter, I find an elderly woman, in her eighties i'd guess, filing through paperwork. I spot a plate on the desk and see what seem to be home-made cookies. So it was cinnamon. My mouth waters at the sight of them, and I wonder when the last time was that I had home baking. The woman looks up and I see her name badge says Lynda.

"Good evening my dear," She croons kindly, "Room for one is it?"

No, I want a room for two but I have no-one to share it with. "Yes please. Do you take credit?" My eyes flicker to the plate again, but obviously not subtly enough, because she turns and looks at the plate too.

"Yes we do, and help yourself," She smiles at me and nods towards the cookies.

I can't stop my face from breaking into a cautious smile. I hand her the card and lunge for the cookies. I grab the first one I see and take a bite. "Mmmphmm." A muffled sigh of gratitude escapes my mouth.

"You like them? They're an old family recipe," she grins.

"They taste like home," I say through a mouthful, and try to smile appreciatively without spilling crumbs everywhere.

"Lovely, we've got you in room 17, on the first floor, the stairs are just over in that corridor."

"Thanks." I finish the cookie far quicker than I ought to have, and tramp up the stairs to my room.

The room is far nicer than I expected, normal white walls and white bedsheets with blue and green pillows. A blue and green lightshade reflects colour onto the walls and creates an illusion of water. I lay back on the crisp linen and breath out all of my tension. It's a nice matress too. Not incredibly squishy, nor is it too hard or lumpy. Within mere minutes, I am asleep.


	2. Romance in the Diner

The next morning, I awake comfortably for the first time in months. No call, no alarm, no-one barging in trying to kill me. Just opening my eyes to find it's morning. It's a nice feeling.

I opt for a dress today, I mean, when you're a hunter, you've got to be prepared but why not indulge my feminine side today? If you're fighting some-one/-thing, you won't really mind flashing your knickers. All the same, I wear skin-tight shorts beneath it. It's a summery number, yellows and greens with a respectable neckline and thin white belt accessorising. I look in the mirror and understand why many hunters underestimate me. Well I could still kick their asses while wearing this. I pull my long red hair into a tight, easy bun. I look back at my reflection and think again. I pull out the hair-tie and pins and let my hair cascade down around my shoulders in waves.

I jump into my car and find a nice diner to have breakfast in. I feel like waffles. I pull into some 60's style diner and grab a small, comfy booth in the corner. I pull out the menu and am shocked by the fact that it contains no waffles whatsoever.

"Humph," I sigh. Just once i'd like to walk in and find something I feel like. For some reason I tune into the voices speaking over from me.

"So you don't have any waffles?" A deep voice inquires.

"Sorry darl, haven't had 'em on the menu ever since I remember. We got pancakes and stuff, but never waffles. Not sure why." A young waitress apologizes.

"Well i'll have the Big Brekkie and a strawberry milkshake," another voice adds. "Sammy?"

"I'll have the pancakes then, thanks." The first voice replies.

"Comin' up sugar," says the waitress. I'm fairly sure there's room for a wink in there before she adds "It'll be here in about ten minutes."

I try to sneakily look around at the pair of men at the booth across from me and see two tall, good looking guys murmuring together, one with short, light brown hair and a stubbly chin, from his voice, the one that called the other one Sammy. The other one taller,with long brown hair and sideburns that could kill. Damn. They fiiiine. I think to myself as they talk in hushed tones. I don't realise i'm staring until a blonde-haired, blue-eyed waitress comes by to ask me what i'd like.

"So there aren't any waffles?" I ask, maybe a little too loudly, hoping to attract the long-haired man's attention. Which I probably shouldn't be doing.

"Sorry dollface," she shoots me down, and kicks me while i'm there. Dollface. "But if you're after sweet and carbs, we got pancakes and french toast and pie."

"I'll take the pancakes please. You got any ice-cream?"

"Hahaha!" She laughs a long, tinkly laugh. "We sure do, it's a 'lil favourite of mine to tell you the truth. Sauce?"

"Strawberry please." I reply.

As she sashays away in her heels, I glance over to the booth next to mine and see "Sammy's" eyes meet mine, then dart away quickly. I look away to the salt and pepper shakers that sit innocently on my table, as they seem to have become fascinating in the last few minutes. I steal a glance back up at them and see "Sammy" smiling, showing pearly white, slightly uneven teeth behind his pale lips.

He looks up, and I smile at him. He smiles back. I feel something flutter inside me, something i've suppressed for a long time, a voice rings out inside my head- don't get attached. But I still contemplate ways of getting my personal phone number to him. The waitress comes back, a tray laden with pancakes, ice cream, beans, sausages and sauces. Wow, I was submerged in my thinking for a while there.

"Here ya go sweetie," the blonde waitress lands a plate of pancakes and ice cream down in front of my nose, and despite my disappointment at the non-existent waffles, they look gooood.

I start eating, but find myself filling up very quickly. I feel I should eat more, get all the strength I need for the day, but I just can't. I think it's because my stomach's already half-full with butterflies. And that never goes anywhere good. So I pull out my laptop and try to search up something about what's going on in Massachusetts and where it's all centered. I find a police site and begin to hack my way in.

"Damn," I mutter under my breath. "Massachusetts must have some top-secret stuff with all this security."

My cell phone rings, and I check caller I.D. Bobby again.

"Hey Bobby, watcha got for me?" I sense movement in my peripherals and see that my Sammy boy had flickered his gaze over to me, and then flickered away again. Probably nothing.

"Dug anything up yet?" Bobby replies boredly.

"Nope, these sirens are tricky bastards this time round. And do you know how difficult it is to hack the police here? It's like trying to hack Torchwood." I doubt he knows what that is, but I throw the reference in there as a tribute to all the night-time television i've been watching these late, sleepless nights.

"What the hell's a Torchwood?" I was right. "Check out the strip club in town, Eye of the Tiger or summin' like that."

I had looked that up, it was called The Cat's Eye.

"Already checked it out, it looked unconnected but it might have something to do with it. I'll check it out."

"'Kay." Bobby replied unceremoniously, then hung up.

"Idgit." I mutter under my breath, using one of Bobby's famous catchphrases.

"Excuse me, were you just talking to Bobby Singer?" I heard a voice question me from across the linoleum aisle.

"Who wants to know?" I asked accusingly.

"We're the Winchesters," Sammy replied, as though I was supposed to swoon and say 'Oh, the famous Winchesters! I'm saved.'

"Oh wow, the Winchesters!" I say sarcastically.

"We... We're in the same line of work with him." Says the shorter man inconspicuously.

Oh. Wasn't expecting that.

"Let's talk somewhere else, my motel's not far from here." I grab a napkin, pull a pen out of my bag and write down the room number and name of the motel, and add my name and number, because why the hell not. I pick it off the table and the shorter man goes to grab it, but I steer it away from him and hand it to Sammy. He looks somewhat pleased, while the other man looks slightly awkward.

"Meet there at 12?"

"Sounds great." Sammy says.

I call for the check, and tip generously. As I walk out, I hear the shorter man say to Sammy, "Dude, she put her number on there, she totally wants you."

I grin and continue walking out to the Thunderbird.


	3. Whiskey and Coffee

When I reach my motel room, the first thing I do is go for my toiletries bag, reaching for something I haven't used in a long time as a casual activity. Makeup.

No point wearing it when you're just going to sweat it off, right? Well this time I was maybe hoping for sweating, but in a different way, if you know what I mean...

Good thing I wore a dress, I think to myself. Then scold myself for thinking. I shouldn't even be debating this at all.

I pull out a bottle of creamy coloured liquid... And put it away again. I'm not a teenager anymore. I don't have zits all over my face. I'm a woman. I pull out a mascara wand and brush my lashes gently, trying to keep them from clumping. I grab a black case of what seems to be eyeshadow, and throw on a light dusting of blue at the crease, and fade it down through green to yellow. Ugh, nope. I wipe it off and start again. Bronze up to the lower browbone. Gross. Guess i'm goin' plain Jane today. A sweep of coal black over the eyelid. Nice.

I pull out a bright red lipstick. NOPE. I think and shove it back into back into my bag quickly. I go for a peachy gloss.

I put my bag away in my other bag, and sit down to wait.

Not two minutes later, I hear a knock at the door. I'm too comfy to get up.

"It's open." I shout to the door. The doorknob rattles in response.

"No, I don't think it is." Sammy's voice calls back to me.

"Humph. Okay, i'm coming." I reply slightly sourly. That bed really is incredibly comfy. I open the door to see the two gorgeous men from the diner, standing there comfortably. "Come on in- coffee?" I look at them and rethink. "Whiskey?" I usually keep a bottle or two in the car for surly officers, loosens their tongue a bit. And I can't say I complain about having a nip or two every now or then. We walk into the main room and the shorter one lumps himself down in a chair. No time for polite conversation in our business.

"Sure," He replies "Whiskey sounds great." He nods and goes to shake my hand. "I'm Dean by the way."

"Jane." I reply automatically. I look towards Sammy, who is still standing stiffly by the old tv set. "Sammy, right?" I ask him nonchalantly.

"Uh, just Sam." He answers awkwardly. Dean grins.

"Feel free to call him Sammy though, he loves it when the ladies call him Sammy."

I laugh humorously and turn to Sam. "So what can I do you for Sammy?" I see his face has gone rather red and he hits Dean's arm forcefully.

"We heard you talking at Lucy's, you know Bobby?"

"Well I was asking what you'd like to drink but we can start there if you like," I say jokingly.

"Oh, right. He says once again, awkwardly. Um, coffee'd be great thanks." I nod and close the door. "So you know Bobby then?" Sam asks.

"Sure do, sent me hunting this siren round here."

"We heard about that too, six deaths right?" Dean adds.

"Seven," I inform him. "One two nights ago, girl killed her younger brother. They were both in foster care most of their lives. Girl goes to a club with some friends, comes back home with some guy, and bludgeons her 'lil bro to death with a decorative rock."

"Classy. She go anywhere connected with the other murders?" Dean murmurs.

"Haven't been able to dig much up, these police are harder to hack than Torchwood." I tell my reference again, and hope to get some sort of reaction. I just don't want to be the only person I know who likes british television.

I'm just about giving up hope when I hear Sam interject with, "Oh hey, I love that show."

Well. I said i'm not a swooning girl but damn, if Sam gets much hotter, I may have to.

"Well we'll have to watch it sometime then won't we?" I say, catching his eye and daring to try sounding flirtatious. Dean snorts.

"How about we stop chatting and start trying to find this thing?" He adds.

"Sure, what do you guys know?" I ask Dean accusingly.

He almost pouts at me, and replies "Not much, got a call from a Sheriff we know over in Vermont, said something was up and that we should check it out."

"Great so we know pretty much nothing." I say mock enthusiasm in me voice. I assume you know the best way to gank it?

"Bronze dagger and the blood of a victim. Easy." Dean boasts.

"Not easy. Unless you're planning on infecting one of us with their saliva just to get a fresh sample, you need to wait for another attack, or get old blood samples from the morgue. In which case, we need to get the sample fast, or the oxytocin's gonna fade, and we're not gonna have a way to kill it." Dean looks at me, slack-jawed.

I walk into the kitchen during the stunned silence and grab the whiskey bottle. I pour a glass for Dean and turn on the grubby electric jug, pull the coffee jar's lid off and spoon instant coffee into two mugs.

"Did you know she was good? I didn't think she would be this good." I hear Dean whisper to Sam. I walk out with Dean's drink and hand it to him. "Why did you assume I wasn't good?" I ask innocently, knowing I would get some flustered bumbling answer like usual.

"Well, it's just, um.. we'll you don't exactly... uh, you're not really..." He said, giving me some flustered bumbling answer like usual.

Sam looks at him, with a look I can only describe as a bitchface. "Seriously dude? How many female hunters have we met that weren't good at what they do? Besides, women can walk in heels. Good weapon if you prepare them right." He looks at me contemplatively. "And she could probably kick our asses anyway, even in a dress." He adds.

I smile at him. "Thankyou Sammy," I put emphasis on his name, "I appreciate that." I walk to the kitchen and pour water and milk into the mugs, add sugar and stir. I walk out, and pass one mug to Sam, and shoot a look at Dean. He shoots a look right back. At least he's not a wuss as well as disrespectful.

"So, what's your life story?" I ask calmly. The boys turn to look at me like a carnival attraction.

"The whole 200-book series?" Dean retorts.

"Sure. May as well hear it now while we're all cosied up." I reply.

"Okay then, you asked for it." Says Sam. He sits down on the small loveseat, and I ponder sitting beside him, then decide that it would be a bit too forward right now.

I settle back onto the cosy double bed and cross my legs, waiting for the story to begin.


	4. Spearmint

"So let me get this straight." I say, my mind reeling. "You," I point at Dean, "Sold your soul to a crossroads demon to bring Sammy boy here back from the dead. You go to hell, get pulled out months slash years later by an angel of the lord. Then, Sam incites the apocalypse, and becomes our good ol' friend Lucifer's vessel. Your unknown-of brother then becomes Michael's vessel, and they're about to duel it out when your angel buddy hops in and Molotov's Michael with holy fire, then you open the pit and Sammy slash Satan jumps into hell."

"That's a good summary, yeah." Sam replies.

Well shit. These guys were actually competent.

"So what's your story?" Dean asks.

"My story?" I reply, anxiously.

"Yeah, we told ours, it's your turn."

Damn. No escape for me then. "Okay, let's get this over with. My boyfriend was a hunter, and I didn't know until a demon killed my family, and we had to run. He told me everything, and I wasn't really too worried- i'd heard weirder confessions- but then I was possessed, I killed him, and Bobby stepped in and was about to kill me, when the demon just left. Bobby cleaned me up, gave me a home until I was back on my feet, trained me up a bit and found I wasn't too bad a hunter. I did archery as a kid so I wasn't exactly a bad shot, and I went to college for a bit so I was able to learn and remember things pretty easily- hence why I can remember all the tricky details about cases. I remember my mistakes."

Sam looks intrigued.

"What were you studying at college?" He asks.

"Psychology. Study of the human mind. It's really fascinating stuff actually, you can teach yourself to remember things, and forget. How to wake up at a certain time without an alarm. That sort of stuff. But there's also some pretty freaky stuff too. Heard of tulpas?"

"Yeah, people's angry sides taking a form of their own through careful meditation, right?" Dean answers and asks in one sweep.

"Yes, that's correct. We had to study one."

"What!" They exclaim in unison.

"I said it was freaky. This guy had been meditating for years, could interact with his tupla on a physical level. He could fight with him and push him away, not just talk to him. But we didn't get to study him for as long as we might have done. One morning he didn't come in. We called his home, but there was no reply. That's when we sent someone around. The door was unlocked and the place was a mess, like a hurricane had swept through. The guy was face-down in the bathtub."

"His tulpa drowned him?" Sam asks astonished.

"We believe so. It could've been a normal homicide, or even suicide, but we just knew him too well. We'd been studying him for months after all."

"Wow, riveting." Dean said sarcastically, rubbing his eyes. "Can we stop all the life-story stuff and start digging for this siren?"

"Sure thang sweetie, where do you wanna look?" I raise my eyebrows at him.

"Any strip clubs connected to the murderers?" He asks.

"Not as far as we know, Bobby's asked me to check one out in town- The Cat's Eye."

"Let's go check it out then." He stands up and stretches, and it's only then that I realise how long we've been sitting there sharing stories.

"Five pm? You want to check out a strip club at five pm? The best you'll find is a pole dancer with a few old guys sitting around paying near-nothing. We'll be better off going later."

"Okay then, what are we gonna do 'til then?" Asks Sam.

Oh I can think of a couple of things, Sammy. "We can hang out here and see if we can hack some information outta these police. Either of you a good hacker?"

"Yup, you got a wireless connection?" Sam replies.

"Yeah, the hotel's free wireless is crap, but I have my own." I pick up a small transmitter/receiver pen drive out of my bag and hand it to him.

"Cool, i'll go get my laptop." Sam stands up to walk down to the car, and when he passes me to walk out the door, I surreptitiously pinch his butt. He turns around and looks at me, surprised, before continuing on out the door to what I see is a glorious 1967 Chevrolet Impala. Just about blows my Thunderbird into the dust. He pulls a leather case from the passenger seat and slams the door shut. I see him pull a packet of mints out of his pocket and pop one into his mouth.

"So what do you want me to do?" I heard from across the room. I hope he didn't notice I was incredibly engrossed with his brother...

"You... You can go get dinner." I say, smirking slightly.

"Are you serious? I'm a top-of-the-range hunter. I've been to hell and back. And you're asking me to get dinner?" Dean asks, incredulous.

"Yup. Deal with it."

"Whatever, i'll be back soon." He replies sulkily. He strides out the door and grabs the keys off Sam as they cross paths.

"Where's he going? And why does he look like a three-year-old who's had his toys taken off him?" Sam asks.

"I told him to go fetch dinner." I laugh.

Sam laughs with me. "He can't stand to not be part of the action."

"I know that feeling, but I hope he doesn't want to be part of this action." I stand on my tip-toes and pull him down towards me by the lapels of his jacket. I'm definitely being a bit forward now, but I don't care. Our lips meet, and I feel the unfamiliar tingle of warmth spread like electricity through my veins. I taste spearmint and lingering coffee. I like it. We break for breath, and I am given a chance to look into his sparkling almost-green eyes.  
I like the almost green. It's the colour the fruits turned on my old apple tree just before they were ripe.

"Coffee," He says, laughing. "And strawberry?"

"Mhmm," I hum, giggling a bit. I can't remember the last time I giggled. "Coffee and spearmint?" I reply, the giggle still in my chest.

"Did you see- before? Damn." I laugh with him, and suddenly we're kissing again. He lifts me up, and we're on the bed. He lies atop me, and I feel safe. I can't remember the last time I felt safe. Properly safe. I return his eager kisses with fervour, savouring the moments. I can't even remember the last time I had a moment I wanted to savour. If you don't count sleep. We lie on the bed for what could've been a few seconds, but at the same time could've been a few sunlit days. He rolls off me and lays down beside me, arm wrapped around my waist.

"Wanna go get breakfast together tomorrow?" I ask, a little breathless.

"Only if we go somewhere with waffles." He chuckles lightly.

"Amen." I reply, and roll over to connect my mouth with his again. This is how I want to live. Wrapped up in Sam's arms, stealing kisses. I pull away for a moment, breathe out and go to pull another breath into my lungs when the air flow is blocked my Sam's lips meeting mine again. It's okay. I can breathe through my nose. I could breathe through my nose forever if it meant that this moment could stay here forever. I don't need food or water. It's fine.

I hear the door open and Dean's harsh voice say "I hope you all like cheeseburgers. I just got vanilla shakes for everyone 'cos no-one else came, so no-one else gets to choose."

Sam and I spring apart just as dean walks into the room.

"Find out anything new guys? I talked to some guys down at the- oh." He sets eyes on us, standing on opposite sides of the bed, looking everywhere but at each other. Sam is the first to break ranks.

"Vanilla? You know I hate vanilla. Damnit Dean!" He grabs one bag of food and stits down at the small dining table.

"Whatever," Dean replies. But then he notices. "Nice shade dude."

"Hmphwhad?" Sam says through a mouthful of burger.

"I always thought you were more of a plum guy myself, but the pink's hot too."

Sam swipes at his lips with a napkin and I can tell that he's seen it by the colour his cheeks turn.

"Waddever." He manages to say without spraying beef everywhere. I realise I'm still standing over by the bed, awkwardly waiting for everyone to forget or something. I walk over to the small table and grab a paper bag.

"Mm," I murmur. "I love Vanilla." I take a big slurp and sit down in the comfiest chair I can find that isn't already occupied.


	5. Dean Interrupts

We finish dinner and clean up. I finish off the last of my second milkshake- I sneaked Sam's out of his bag when he wasn't looking, it's not like he wanted it or anything.

"Are you actually a lady? 'Cos you managed to down your meal and two shakes in the time it took us to finish ours." Dean jokes gruffly.

"Bitch please, how do you think I get such a fabulous figure?" I gesture to my "fabulous" figure.

"Okay, whatever." He drawls. " And it'd probably be easier if we move into this motel, it's just easier than driving round every which way." He retorts.

"Good idea Dean- you go grab what we left there, and tell them we've vacated. We'll stay here and see if we can dig up a bit more- what was the name of the club Bobby suggested?" Sam replied, directing the last part of the question towards me.

"The Cat's Eye." I tell him, suppressing a belch. I probably shouldn't have had the extra shake, but damn I love food.

"Okay then, well i'll... I'll leave you guys to it." Dean stands up, grabs his keys off the table and walks out the door. I turn to Sam.

"Where were we?" I smile at him seductively. Which, coming from me, probably looks like a creepy paedophile stare.

"I believe we were on the bed?" His velvet tones reply. We pretty much skip towards the bed, and I meet no resistance when I lie on top of him, pressing myself tightly to him. Our lips meet once more and I feel the warmth moving from them into mine which are still cold from the shake.

"Hmm," he hums appreciatively. "I think I kinda like vanilla now." He presses his mouth against my collarbone and I am too engrossed in our activities to notice the click of the door as it opens. Nor do I notice the silent footsteps as they pad along the carpeted floor.

But I do notice Sam pulling his mouth away from me for more than a few seconds, and I look up and see Dean staring at us for a few seconds, then quickly trying to stifle a laugh while running over to the table to grab something.

"Sorry, I just- pffft," He sniggers, "Just forgot my wallet." He walks out the door and shuts it. A second later I hear a hearty laugh, and what I think was "Go get her Sammy," followed by more laughter.

Sam looks a little startled- a deer in the headlights.

"Oh who even cares anymore?" I ask and connect us again.

"Not me," Sam laughs into my shoulder as I plant hungry kisses onto his neck.

I pull him into sitting upright and pull his shirt off his taut abs. Dear God, good job on this one, I think. His anti-possession tattoo stands out on his tan skin, reminding me that I should get something like that. That thought disperses into smoke when Sam begins to unzip my dress and pull it over my head. Damn, I think. I should've worn some nice underwear. Right now i'm wearing a plain white bra and plain black boyleg panties, not exactly 'hot-under-the-collar' inducing stuff. But it'll have to do, because it's too late now. I move down his body and undo the zipper on his jeans which I see are already beginning to tent a bit. I let out an almost animal growl of desire. The button refuses to budge, so i'm fumbling around for a few seconds before I give up. "Sam," I growl, "Control your boner!"

He laughs and reaches down to undo the button. I roll off to let him slide his jeans off, then climb back on and straddle him, leaning down to fill my nose with his scent of alcohol and takeaways. He pulls my head down and we share a long, intimate kiss, broken by sighs and breath. I'm no model, so i'm surprised when he leans down as if to kiss me and whispers into my ear "You're so beautiful." If I had doubts before now, they were gone.

I pull off the rest of my constrictive clothing, and he does the same. We become lost in each other's passion. The room must have reached a hundred degrees, because we are both sweating profusely. It didn't matter though, there is only here, now and him. We entwine together, and i'm not sure whose limbs are whose, but I have to find his and press myself against as much of him as I can. I roll over and he is suddenly on top of me. I feel bliss like no other. How long has it been? Two years? Three? Suddenly my mind goes blank and all there is, is white-hot pleasure. I can feel nothing and everything at the same time, I feel the crisp, now sweaty sheets beneath the grip of my hand, and I feel Sam's hot, tan skin being dragged along with by fingernails. I'm suddenly aware of Sammy moaning in his low, sultry voice. Oh god, if I hadn't already finished, I would've after hearing that. His breathing slows and his moans dissipate. I reach up to cup his face and his lips meet mine with lustful force. I crawl down under the bedsheets and wait for Sam to join me. He clambers under, puts his arm around my waist again, this time pulling me closer. I have no objections whatsoever.

"To sum that up in a word," He says, "I would choose wow." He laughs breathlessly and I join in. He rests his head on my neck and I crane my neck around to kiss him.

"We should probably get cleaned up a bit before Dean gets back. Though, I have a good feeling he'll take his time." I sit up, not worrying about pulling the sheet around my naked body. "Dibs first shower!" I say as I walk to the bathroom, a spring in my step. He yawns and nestles back into the bed.

I turn on the water and close the door. I step under the fountain. It's still cold, but my body only reacts to this by enhancing the sensations i'm already feeling. My toes are numb, and I press them hard into the cold metal until they tingle.

I tip my head back and let the water flow down over my hair, rinse all the remaining makeup from my face with a facecloth. Every day should end like this. With hot lover and a cool shower. I twist the faucet shut and pull away the shower curtain. I step out onto a bath mat and pull on a fluffy bathrobe I find hanging off a hook on the back of the door. I don't bother drying my hair properly.

"Took you long enough." Sam growls accusingly, then wraps me in his arms and kisses me. I actually sigh at the feeling of his muscles beneath my hands.

"You know, I think a shower can wait," he decides, and pulls me into the bed. I follow without hesitation.

The robe somehow manages to slip off during the journey, but I don't care. I lie down in the bed, Sammy at my back. The last thing I remember before I fall asleep is Sam's face nuzzling my shoulder, planting kisses over my neck and shoulders. I feel so happy I could die, but in my line of business, it tends to do well not to say this.

A/N: If you liked this chapter, please tell me in a review or message! If you didn't like it, i'd be happy to hear from you as well- constructive criticism is welcome.


	6. Gold Star

How I expect to wake up: In a cold bed, with the curtains streaming sunlight through, the beams of which land right in my eyes, and someone trying to kill me.

How I do wake up: In a warm, cosy bed, with the curtains shut properly, and a guy at my back, landing kisses all over my shoulders, cheeks, neck.

He must know i'm awake now, because he stops for a second and breathes a deep, gorgeously throaty, " Morning, how'd you sleep?"

"Blissful," I reply in a murmur. "You?"

"I can't remember the last time I woke up with someone in my arms." He reminisces.

"Neither." I roll over and connect us again, his lips warm and soft. He lets slip a sultry moan and I grin. "C'mon, we'd better get up now before diners stop serving the breakfast menu."

"Good plan." He replies.

"Hey, what happened with Dean?" I ask, smirking.

"He came in last night when you were asleep and said he'd gotten a room about two or three down from us." He answers mildly. I know he's hiding something.

"...And?" I add, grinning.

"Well... He said..." Sam mumbles something unintelligibly.

"So he said haphwrehaprgehaprhsadre? Wow. That's some serious stuff." I joke.

He's beginning to turn a bit pink. And I start to wonder if, shit. Is, well, was he a virgin?

"He said 'Congrats on the sex'." He finally admits.

I laugh at this.

"Seriously? He used the most ridiculous way possible to bring that up?" I ask, incredulous.

"Yup," He replies. "That's my Deano." He laughs. "I'm just gonna grab a quick shower."

"Hey," I start innocently. "Are you... You weren't, y'know...? Before last night?" I ask, becoming flustered.

"A virgin?" He answers casually. "No, don't worry, you didn't steal my innocence or anything." He chuckles.

"Thank god," I reply. "I wasn't sure, because you just got so nervous about telling me what Dean said.

"It's just so coarse to say it though, I mean, it's embarrassing when your big bro' walks in on you and a girl, but it's even worse when he makes comments like he did, especially about a hunter." Oops. He didn't mean to let that one slip.

"Sooo... What else did he say?" I ask, gently pulling in towards him so my head rests on his chest. I reach up and kiss his jawline, moving down his neck until I reach his tattoo.

"He..." His voice catches, and I expect my endeavours are producing the result I wanted. "He said 'Nice catch,' I quote. And i'm pretty sure the gesture he made was that of throwing a ball." He says.

"Hmm. Good thing I don't care."

"But-"

"I don't care." I pull him into the loveseat and our hungry kisses run rampant again. I consider going for round two. Maybe only if he starts it. I think.

I can't believe I pretty much just chose waffles over cute, sleepy, morning sex. Well, waffles are only on the menu for a limited amount of time in the mornings... And we have all day...

"Mmmm," I murmur, my voice muffled by his strong, confident arms. "Waffles?"

He chuckles. "Waffles." He confirms, and kisses the top of my head.

I release my grip on him and he stands up and heads in the direction of the bathroom. I can't help it, I pinch his butt again. He turns around and laughs at me, then continues walking away. I let a giggle escape my lips.

I walk over to my bags over on the opposite side of the bed, and pull out the first thing I lay my hands on. Skinny jeans. Could be worse. I grab a tight green tank-top that I got on holiday in Vegas- well, as much of a holiday a hunter can get. The first pair of panties I find are blue, boyleg again, and scream across the butt in sparkly lettering ALWAYS ON TOP. I guess that isn't exactly true, but it could definitely make for conversation... Or not... And my bra? One i've had for years, a superman symbol on each cup. I clip it on and laugh at how little i've changed from the gangly, stubborn teenager I was when I bought it.

I pull on the rest of the clothes and wrestle myself into the skinny jeans. I hear the water turn off in the bathroom. I pull my moisturizer out of my bag and squeeze some into my hand. I rub it over my hands and slick the residue over my face. It feels fresh, and smells of lime and coconut. I inhale deeply, and think of the alcohol and takeaways scent I inhaled last night. The latter was much nicer, come to think of it, but i'm a little biased I suppose.

Sam walks out in his underwear, and I feign a swoon, laying down, outstretched on the bed. He rushes over to help me, and I laugh.

"Just kidding Sammy." I chuckle. "But now that you're here..." I lean my head back, and he rests his lips on mine. The, slow, romantic kiss becomes a spark that ignites a passion inside of us. Sam pulls me up off the bed and I wrap my legs around his waist. His hands go to my back, cradling with both gentleness and force, somehow at the same time, while my hands are gripping, entangling themselves in his hair. This would not be as much fun with Dean, I think to myself. Not enough hair. Maybe I should test it sometime. I chuckle darkly at this thought. It'd definitely be the best way to scare him off, I think.

Creeeaaak, click. The door opens and shuts. Speak of the devil. Sam pauses for a second, but I pull him back to me. We land on the bed again, him on top of me, lips still glued together.

It's Dean that walks in, as I expect- but I don't think he was expecting to see us being so full-on so early.

"Woah, you guys still going at it?" We both turn our heads, and I see Dean miming throwing a ball to Sam. "Gold star Sammy." He laughs.

I untangle myself from Sam and walk over to Dean. Well this morning's gonna be full of surprises for him. I pull him down to meet me, and push our lips together. He hesitates for a second, before probing my tongue with his and grabbing my waist. I pull away, and grin.

"Nah, it's more fun with hair." I walk away back over to the bed and lay down, my head in Sam's lap. He seems surprised. Fair enough.

"Tease." Dean throws back at me.

"Why don't you get yourself a ladyfriend Dean?" I ask, a smile threatening to creep onto my face.

"I did," He replies "But it wasn't worth the fifty bucks an hour." He smirks.

"Ready to go get breakfast then?" Sam asks me

"Ready," I say, nuzzling into him. "I think we'd better bring our computers though, we have a lot of catching up to do."


	7. Deafening

A/N: Yes I did have to reference certain rock music that makes the fandom weep with happiness and sadness at the same time every time they hear it.

We take the Thunderbird to breakfast. As soon as Dean saw it i'm pretty sure he got some kind of weird car-boner. To be fair, I got a bit of a ladyboner when I saw the Impala.

"Is that a 1983 Thunderbird? Oh baby, this one's a beauty."

"Sure is, complete original. No new parts, just carefully looked after with a bit of TLC." I reply proudly. I'm not sure whether I want to drive, or whether I want to give Dean a whirl. If he owns an Impala, I trust him, but still, she's my baby. But I get could get up to a bit of mischief in the back with Sam...

"I'm driving." I announce, mostly for my own benefit. I gesture to Sammy to take the passenger seat, while Dean, almost sulkily, sits in the back. I jump in, and feel the familiar bounce of suspension. Slide in the key, turn. Clutch, first gear. She purrs like a kitten.

"How'd you get her running so smoothly?" I hear coming from the back seat.

"Grease and luuuurve." I reply. "Lots of grease and love." I turn on the radio and tune it into this state. Some old rock song comes on, a good one. Drums and guitar- nice. I let it play, and see Dean in the rear-view mirror nodding his head and mouthing along. Carry on my wayward so-o-o-on, there'll be peace when you are do-one.

"This music, I like it. You can keep her Sammy." He says.

"To be honest, I don't think you've got a choice Dean."I laugh and pull Sam over for a kiss.

He leans into the kiss deeply, and my breath catches. I run my hand down his chest and feel his muscles clench.

"Ah hem," Dean coughs. Damn, i'd forgotten he was here. "Breakfast?"

Sam pulls away from me. "Breakfast." He grins.

I put my hands on the steering wheel and pull out of the parking lot.

We end up at some small place in town which, thank god, sells waffles. I opt for plain waffles with syrup and banana, while Sam has Chocolate-chip waffles with syrup. Dean has bacon and eggs. Dean's surprised when Sam orders a small vanilla milkshake with his meal.

"I thought you hated vanilla?" he asks.

"It's... Not so bad." He winks at me.

Dean groans. "Ugh, okay, if you guys are getting it on, at least leave it until after this thing's been ganked, 'kay?"

"Ooh, I don't think I can promise that Dean." Sam retorts, pulling me in towards him. He kisses me, his soft lips grinding against mine, making me tingle. I'm first to pull away, maybe for Dean's sake, because he's going pretty red, but it's most likely because we're in public, and we need to be reserved. Good thing too, because a minute later, our food arrives.

"Mmm" I hum as I bite into a chunk of waffle and banana, dripping in maple syrup. I shudder as I feel a hand running up my leg, caressing my thigh. All I can say is i'm glad i'm on the inner seat of the booth, because my hips are jerking a little, and it'd be a lot more noticeable over the other side. I look over at Sam accusingly. "Just let me eat my breakfast," I mouth, giggling a little. Dean looks like he's going to be sick or something. I grab my laptop from under the table and open it up, connecting it to the travel modem. I turn the screen to Sam.

"Here, see if you can hack this, it might keep you preoccupied for a few minutes." I wink at him.

He grins and pulls the laptop towards him, I see his eyes scan the text briefly.

"It looks pretty tight, but i'll see what I can do." He replies. I suppress another giggle.

"Dean, when you walked in with dinner last night, what were you gonna say? You were talking to some guys?" He adds.

"Yeah, well, I overheard them saying that apparently the best place to go if you wanted a certain something would be 'The Cat's Eye'." Dean informs us. "I think they used the words 'a girl for every taste'. Classy."

"Well we'd better check it out then." I say.

"Well, I thought we were going to, but then you two lovebirds," he points at us accusingly, "Decided to put a wrench in the works."

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, we can still go tonight." I say arrogantly. I don't think Dean is used to being out-sassed. I'm about to think of a witty quip when i'm interrupted by a phone going off. It's not mine. Dean pulls out his phone and looks at the caller I.D.

"It's Bobby," he tells us, answering the call. "Hey Bobby, wassup? We're in Massachusetts."

Bobby replies, but I can't hear what he's saying.

"Yeah, heard about that. Came down as soon as we could."

Bobby's turn to speak.

"Yeah, but Sam's a little deep in something else right now..."

I can't hear what he's saying, but my best guess is 'what'.

"Jane."

Aaaaand, there goes a bit of waffle down my shirt. Was not expecting that. Damnit Dean!

Suddenly, I can hear everything he's saying. Dean pulls the phone away from his ear slightly as Bobby verbally assaults him.

" THE DAMN IDGIT I'LL HAVE HIS HIDE... DOES THE BASTARD THINK HE'S... OH GODDAMNIT JUST PUT HER ON."

He passes the phone to me.

"Er... Hi Bobby, wha-"

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING JANE, THESE GUYS ARE COMPLETE IDGITS- YOU'LL BE KILLED IN YOUR SLEEP IF YOU HANG AROUND WITH THEM TOO OFTEN WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK'S GONNA COME OF YOU HAVING- uh... Intimate relations- WITH ONE OF 'EM. YA THINK YOU'RE GONNA BE ALL HAPPY GO-LUCKY AND SKIP OFF INTO THE SUNSET WITHOUT A CARE?"

"Bobby, calm down alright? It's not like I never been in any kind of real danger before, I mean, i'm a hunter."

"I am calm. Okay?"Bobby concedes. "Now how long has this been going on for?"

"Um... Two days?" I say, hoping I haven't awoken the metaphorical kraken.

"Look, I know i'm not your father... BUT TWO DAYS?" He explodes. I can tell the others have heard it by the way they pull their heads away from trying to listen in. I pull the phone away, like Dean. I don't want to go deaf.

"Okay, let's deal with this after the siren, Bobby." I manage to get in when he stops for breath. "Right now, the whole me-and-Sam thing isn't top priority."

I hear him sigh. "Okay then, but you better get it quick, the attacks seem to be increasing in frequency- there was another one last night."

"Guys," I grab Sam and Dean's attention. "There was another death last night."

"Anything new?" I speak into the phone.

"Nothing's come up yet, but i'll keep you posted."

"'Kay, thanks Bobby." I hang up before he has a chance to.

"Anything new?" Dean asks. Sam is so wrapped up in the computer I think he's forgotten the diner exists.

"Nope, which means we'd better find something out soon or we're screwed."


	8. The Goddamn Buckle

Back at the motel, Sam finally manages to crack the security.

"Check this out." He calls to us. Dean and I walk in from the small table, a glass of whiskey in each of our hands. This is my second, and i'll admit i'm not incredibly good at holding my alcohol, so i'm a little tipsy. He turns the screen to face us. All I see are three addresses.

"These are the three clubs in town that the victims of the siren have been to." I recognise the address for The Cat's Eye. So we were on the right track then.

"Yeah, so what? Maybe the siren's just moving from club to club?"

"I thought the same until I saw the official dates." Sam brings up a new window, and we see the dates of the murders and the club the murderer went to.

"But hang on a second, two of those murderers were at a club on the same night, each at a different place." I say.

"Exactly," he replies. "So there might be more than one siren here. You ever seen them work in clusters?" He asks me.

"Nope, only ever seen 'em solo. It's weird though." I ponder.

"It's still a possibility. We'll be better off working as though there's more than one, that way, if there is more than one, we won't be caught off guard." He concludes.

"Good plan, Sammy boy. Where do we start?" Dean jumps back into the conversation.

"Well, how about we follow the plan of heading to The Cat's Eye tonight, and figure out what to do from there."

Mmm, I need to actually concentrate on what he's saying instead of just watching his lips...

"I have a feeling i'm gonna like this case." Dean grins, and jumps onto the loveseat, flicking on the tv. "Ooh, yay. Dr. Sexy MD's on."

"What?" I look at the screen and see a man in cowboy boots and a doctor's coat talking to what seems to be a nurse.

"N... Nothing." Dean quickly flicks it off again. "So, should we go the police station and see if we can find out anything else?"

"Sounds good, who's gonna go? It'll look weird if all three of us show up." I reply.

"You two go," Sam concedes. "I'll see if I can find anything else on here."

"Sorted." I walk to my carryall and shuffle through my I.D's.

Alice Prinse: CIA

Jennifer Hardy : Exotic Dancer... Let's not go there.

Andrea Collins: FBI

Hello Andrea. I pull the badge and I.D out, and pull on a dress jacket. I think about going full on FBI outfit, but there's not too much point, i'd be better off staying a bit casual. I slip the badge into my left breast pocket and turn around to see Dean has turned on the television again, and Sam is completely occupied with the computer. I rummage through for a pair of shoes and decide to go all-out and wear high-heels. Why not. Those words seem to have become my motto lately.

"Come on you medical drama addict, let's go." I call to Dean. He reluctantly flicks off the show and grabs his room key.

"I'll just get changed," I grab the my keys off the table and hear the familiar tinkle of the bell I put on it one Christmas. "And we're taking my ride this time." He adds as he struts out, and I can see he wishes he had cowboy boots. I drop my keys back on the table.

I turn to Sam. "Anything new?"

"Nah, just crap about robberies and stuff." He murmurs. "I'll call if I find anything."

"Cool. See you later then." I smile at him.

"See you." He doesn't even glance up from the computer. Oh well, geeks will be geeks. Even if this one is incredibly hot.

I step out of the door and walk down to Sam and Dea- well, Dean's- room. I open the door and walk in, but to my dismay, Dean is not in fact getting changed at all-he's got his back to me, and I see... Oh my god. He's turned on the damn television again and he's watching the same guy in cowboy boots and doctor's coat getting it on with the nurse.

"Dean." I say.

No reply.

"Dean!" I growl.

"Hwahh?" He turns around at looks at me. I now see that as well as not getting dressed, he's not even wearing pants. It looks like he got halfway through dressing before he remembered the show. Great. At least I didn't find him jerking off or anything.

I walk over to the tv and pull out the electric cable. "Get up, get dressed and let's go! I say. I turn around and look out the window, hunching over and resting my elbows on the windowsill.

It takes a snide remark from him for me to realise my ass is sticking out a bit further than it should be in polite company. "I think that's a better view than the one I had beforehand." He laughs.

"You'll get the even better view of my fist in your face if you keep making comments like that." I turn to face him. "Or would you prefer I just watched you instead?"

"Either's fine with me, Dollface." He winks at me. Last straw buddy. I stride over to him and use one hand to grip his lapel menacingly, the other to grab his crotch, squeezing tightly. His face goes red and twists in pain.

"Listen up Dean, because i'm only gonna say this once. I'm no Dollface. I could kick your sorry ass in a second, but I'm not going to yet, because we have a case to solve. So you start payin' me some respect or this'll become a regular thing for us." I let go and watch his expression change from pain to relief as he sinks onto the bed. I turn around to look out the window again.

"I don't mind if it becomes a regular thing, but could you just ease up on your grip sweetie?" I turn to punch him in the jaw, but my arm is blocked, and I am thrust up against the wall, arms outstretched, his body tight against mine. Awkward, considering he still hasn't managed to get pants on yet. I focus my eyes, and see Dean's clear, gleaming, eyes staring into mine. Our faces are less than an inch apart, and I smell cheap aftershave. I make my face go blank, staring into his face, my breathing slowing. I move our faces closer and closer until our noses touch. His grip loosens a little, surprised at the contact. I thrust all my strength into my next move, and thrown him down onto the bed. I straddle him and wrench his arms down to his sides.

"Say that again." I provoke him. He struggles, writhing beneath my steady grip, and suddenly our roles are reversed. I'm underneath him, my arms outstretched once more, held in place by his strong hands. His legs clamp around mine, rendering me motionless.

"Say that again." He mimics me mockingly.

If the circumstances were different, i'd be pretty turned on right now. Well i'm a little turned on anyway, but whatever. I headbutt him, but miss and knock into his shoulder. Damn. He laughs and releases his grip an infinitesimal amount. It's enough. I pull all my strength into my arm, wrenching it free and slapping him in the face. Hard. He lets go and cusses loudly.

"I hope I didn't mess up your pretty face." I laugh. Then I look again, and see his hands press to his nose, which has started bleeding. "Oh shit, sorry." I spot a box of tissues and pull a few out handing them to him. He presses them to his face and daubs away the blood.

"Son of a bitch!" He cusses again.

"Sorry man, but... Well, you had it coming."

"Yeah, well I think I liked it better when you were just being a tease." He grunts. I look at his shirt and see that a drop has landed on his white shirt.

"Damnit, now you're gonna have to change again." And i'm gonna have to help him since he's already using one hand to hold the tissues that are stopping his blood flowing everywhere. I undo the few buttons that are done up and pull off his shirt. He looks at me with an expression that clearly says: "Are you serious?" It's not like I care seeing a guy not wearing much clothing or anything, so I just keep going. It's just when that body is soooo fine that I have trouble concentrating. I grab another shirt out of his bag and hold it up. He slides one arm in, then switches his hold on the tissues to put in his other arm. I do the buttons up, sometimes pausing to look at him subtly. I finish, and say "I assume you'll be able to put on your pants by yourself?"

"I could've put the shirt on myself, mom." He quips.

"Oh please, those buttons hardly went through the holes, even with two hands, son."

He pulls on his pants and does up the zipper and button, but can't seem to manage the belt. "Need a hand there?" I smirk.

I kneel down and pull the belt tight, sliding the pin through when it looks like it's too tight to allow breathing.

"I'm used to being in the position, but usually the proceedings go in reverse to what they are now." He jokes again.

"Just remember what position i'm in, and how easily the family jewels could be harmed." I quip back. "Hasn't your nose stopped bleeding yet?" I ask, pulling myself up off my knees. He pulls away the wad of tissues and inspects it. Another dribble of blood runs out.

"Nope," He says, tilting his head back and wiping the blood away. "Son of a bitch, how'd you do that?" He asks, astonished.

"Bobby taught me."

"Yeah, well remind me to give the jackass a taste of his own medicine."

"Will do."

He pulls on a sleek dinner jacket and then we're out of the motel and into the Impala.


	9. Bond Girls

"Good afternoon officer, i'm Agent Collins, this is my partner, Agent Smythe." I pull out my badge and flash it about. "We're just training him up, so we need to ask a few routine questions about the murders."

"Of course Agent, i'll be happy to help." The young officer replies.

I'm regretting my choice to wear heels just a little, simply because of how much taller I am now. But the young officer doesn't seem to mind his eyes being level with my chest. Oh well. Maybe it'll help us get info.

"Come on into my office, can I get you a cup of coffee?" He asks.

"Coffee'd be great thanks." I reply.

He shuffles off without offering anything to Dean. Huh, maybe I should dress like this more often.

"I'm the trainee? I look like ten years older than you." Dean pouts.

"I spoke first, besides, did you see the guy we're dealing with? He looks like he'd sell his soul just to see the strap of my bra. If i'm the one handling everything, he'll just be that much more co-operative."

"Whatever then. So what are we looking for?"

"New people that have come into town, people that have left town suspiciously, anyone that's disappeared out of character then reappeared the same way."

"Okay, I meant on the murderers. It's easier when there's just one club involved." Dean reiterated.

"Well on the way here, you told me about the one you guys killed, and it went under the names of Disney characters, right?"

"What?" Great, if he's confused about his own case, how good is he gonna be on this one?

"You said that all the murderers found a girl with the name Jasmine or Ariel and stuff- Y'know, Disney princesses..."

"I'm a grown man Jane, I don't watch Disney movies." Dean exclaims. I don't believe him.

"Well anyway, they might leave a signature like that or something. Something that links them. Who knows, maybe it'll be the names of bond girls, then you'll be in your league."

Dean's face lights up like a kid on Christmas morning. "Ooh I love me some bond girls..." He murmurs. The young officer walks back in at that moment.

"What about bond girls?" He asks. "You'd make an excellent bond girl Agent Collins." He winks at me, and Dean groans.

"Um, thanks.. Sorry, I didn't catch your name." I steer around the topic.

He stumbles over himself to answer my question. "Oh, sorry, excuse me, sorry, i'm officer Luca, but you can just call me Mark if you want to."

"Okay then... Well officer Luca, we just want to ask a few questions about the murderer's trips to the strip clubs in town?"

"Ah yeah, they did say something about the... Uh, the erm, clubs. Who'd wanna go to those places anyway, right? I've never been in one of 'em, just pointless." He blunders.

Aaaaand I give up. I nudge Dean to beg him to take the wheel, and he takes the opportunity quickly, most likely to pull me out. I need to remember to thank him for this.

"So, did the murderers tell you the names of the people they had s..." Dean takes account of how excited Mark looks and takes a different approach. "The names of the people they took home?"

"Yeah, some of them were..." He pulls a file off the desk and leafs through. "Stacey, Judy, Barbara, Suzy, Carol. And there were three men- Fernando, Jessie, and Mickey."

I groan to myself. Names in songs. So this one's a muso.

"Do any of these three clubs happen to do karaoke?" I interject.

"Just Feathers." He answers too quickly. I think he realises because he turns red. "Not that i'd-"

"What?" I cut him off before he starts bumbling around again.

"Um, Feathers. It's one of the bars, ah, connected to the investigation."

"Can I please have the address?" He pulls a notebook out from under the piles of paper on the desk and writes down the address without hesitation, or referral to the address in the case notes. If that's subtlety, i've been doing it wrong for years.

He hands it to me, and I see his hands are shaking a little. I take the piece of paper and stand up.

"Well thankyou for your time, I think we have all we need for now, but we'll call if we need anything else." I indulge him in one of my rare smiles and shake his hand.

"You sure you don't need anything more?"

"Nope, I think we're done here." Dean steers us away. I quickly move the ring I wear on my middle finger, over to my ring finger. Which is a good idea if my instincts are correct.

"Agent Collins?" I hear from behind me. My instincts appear to be right. I turn around and I see Mark with a piece of paper in his outstretched hand, folded.

"Yeah?" I reply.

"Take this." He tells me.

"What is it?" I ask, even though i'm pretty sure I know what it is already.

"My number." He says shyly, almost whispering.

"Sorry sweetie." I hold up my hand and show him the ring.

"Oh." He says, surprised. I have a feeling he already searched for a ring earlier. He must just think he missed it. "Oh," He says again. "Are you two...?" He points to Dean.

"Yeah. We're engaged. Right sweetie?" I nudge Dean and he gets the drift.

"Uh, yeah." I grab his hand for effect, as he doesn't seem to be a very good actor.

"Oh, well, um sorry then. See you. Be sure to call if you need something." He walks away awkwardly.

"Poor guy." I say to Dean as soon as we're in the Impala.

"Whatever, did you figure anything out? 'Cos all I hear's a bunch of normalish names, that would fit a librarian better than a stripper."

"Stacey? Stacey's mom has got it goin' on?" I prompt.

"Yeah, I love that song, what has that got anything to do with-"

"Jessie? I wish that I had Jessie's girl. Mickey? Oh Mickey, you so fine, you so fine you blow my mind."

"Wait, so this guy's going by the names of girls in songs?"

"And guys." I add.

"Okay then, so what's the address?"


	10. Ah, Awkward

A/N: If you want to hear how the name of this chapter is meant to be pronounced, think of Balthazar in 'My Heart Will Go On' when he sneaks up behind Fate.

"I see why they call it feathers." Dean says, pulling a piece of fluff out of his mouth. "You try to breathe and you die of feather inhalation."

A scantily clad girl not much older than myself is dancing in a cage, where the most covered part of her body is her back- obscured by huge multicoloured bird's wings that seem to be shedding everywhere and anywhere.

A stage is lit up with fluorescent lights and go-go dancers in white- with wings also.

Dean has since forgotten about the feather dilemma and is now staring around him in wonder.

"I actually like this place a little bit." He says, taking a step towards a jukebox from the 90's. I pull him back by his collar.

"Hey, hey, hey, we're on a case, remember?" I try to call him back into sense.

"Yeah. But the job has its perks, I tell you." He replies, still admiring all the girls. "Look, there's a karaoke room over there." He points to a room with a spangled gold star on a door at the end of the main dance floor. We head towards it, and I don't know how he managed to see it through all the sweaty teenagers and girls wearing wings, because they're so tightly packed it's an effort to break through.

We open the door and step inside. This room is quieter, not by much though, the blaring speakers compensate for the lovers who are locked at the lips. The room is kitted out with a small stage glittering with fairy lights, the rest of the room filled with bean-bag chairs and loveseats, mostly taken up by couples actively going at it, or guys watching the girls singing on the stage. Apparently if you sing and the crowd votes you the best for the night, says a sign on the wall, you become an honorary go-go-girl for the rest of the night- wings and all. Exciting.

"I'll pay you twenty bucks to sing." Dean dares me, speaking over the blaring noise.

"I'm no cheap whore," I yell to him. "Definitely not your type."

He laughs. "Come on, there's gotta be a green room somewhere." Dean grabs my arm and steers us down a corridor lined with doors covered in stars with names on them in whiteboard marker.

Casey...

Miranda...

Lucia...

Amy...

Delilah...

Karma...

"Wait, Delilah?" I stop and turn back to the door facing Amy and see, in black marker, Delilah.

"What?" Dean asks.

"Delilah."I reply. "Hey there Delilah, what's it like in New York City? I'm a thousand miles away, but girl tonight you look so pretty." I sing quietly.

He looks at me blankly. "I have never heard that song before."

"Oh, I forgot. You're the one who the cassette tapes belong to." I joke.

He glares at me, and extends his hand to rap his knuckles against the door.

A girl in jeans and a thin bandeau top answers it.

"No, i'm not doing another show tonight you bast- Oh sorry." She looks us up and down. She has brown wavy, almost curly hair, and eyes so green it's startling. They look like contact lenses. Her stomach is a perfectly flat plain and her skin is like caramel.

"Hi, i'm Agent Collins, this is my partner- Agent Smythe." We each pull out out badges and show them to her. She takes mine out of my hand and inspects it thoroughly. She hands it back and checks Dean's too.

"Okay then, just gotta be certain y'know? Come on in." She opens the door further and gestures to a small couch, sparkling with glitter. I decide to stay standing.

"So, Delilah. Agent Smythe and I are just coming round asking about-"

"Huh?" She looks at us, confused. "I'm Monica."

Dean rolls his eyes. "Well is Delilah your stage name or something?"

"No, why did you think my name's... Oh, the door sign, i've been meaning to change it, but I just got this room this morning."

"Just this morning?" So we must've missed the siren, if it was indeed a siren, or just coincidence. Dean glares at me again to say 'See, we should've gone last night.'

"Do you know the girl who was in here before you?" Dean asks.

"Not really, kept to herself a lot, quiet type until she got onto the stage." She muses. "She was the best singer in this place. She never danced, and despite that, all the guys wanted her but she always got the most respectable clients, we were left with the bastards who spilled drinks on us and stuff."

"So the other girls didn't really like her either?" I question.

"Not really, we were nice to her and that, a newbie and all, but she just never really responded to us so she ended up as a bit of a loner. She always got the highest payers, so obviously we despised her for that too."

"Well, I think we need to go talk to the manager then, see if we can get something outta him." I tell Dean.

"You go talk to him, he'll probably be persuaded to talk more easily by you than me. I'll stay here and ask a few more questions."

I decide to indulge him, just once, to thank him for getting me out of the situation at the police station. "Okay then. Monica, can you tell we where the manager's office is?" I ask

"Up on the first floor, the staircase is at the end of the corridor." She smiles at me.

"I'll meet you down here in ten minutes, 'kay Smythe?" I direct towards Dean. "He's a trainee, so he'll just ask you a few more routine questions." I smile back at Monica. Dean looks like he's about to growl.

"Okay then, see you." I walk out, closing the door behind me and head down the corridor to the stairs. I'm on the landing of the first flight of stairs when I realise that my breast pocket feel a little too light. I check it, and see that it's empty. Great. Forgetting things is really the way to go, Jane. I think to myself, walking back down the stairs slowly. I reach the bottom and walk to Monica's room, and I realise the door is still ajar. Must've not closed it properly. I walk through and pull it closed, and turn to speak to Monica.

"Just left my badge in h-" I look around and Monica is nowhere to be seen. Dean is sitting on the couch breathing heavily. He looks up at me, and his face lights up.

"I've been waiting for you." He stands up and stretches his arms out to me.

"What?" I exclaim.

"I need you." Oh no.

"Where's Monica?" I ask forcefully.

"Who cares?" Dean replies, his face moving towards mine. I pull away and ponder this issue quickly.

I've never heard of it before, but maybe sirens can create strong lust through other people too, passed through saliva too? The ultimate distraction. Then i'd better not, on any account, let Dean kiss anyone, just in case.

"Dean, you're-" I probably should've thought this through rationally. What was the one thing Dean was trying to do right now? Kiss me. What was I trying to avoid? Him kissing me. So what did I do? Pretty much gave myself up and said 'take me' by being off guard and trying to talk sense into him.

He grabs me by the arms and connects our lips, his tongue moving to try and fit mine. I try to struggle away, i'm still not sure if the venom can be transferred from person to person, but suddenly it doesn't matter. All thought goes out of my head except for Dean. I need him more than I need oxygen; I need him like i've needed nothing else before this moment. Our clothes are on the floor, and we're on the small couch, writhing under each other's touch, when suddenly, my phone is going off, blaring loudly in the quiet room. I consider leaving it to ring, but it might be something important. I have the feeling we were gonna do something important but that's been blown away.

"Hey, who's- aaahhh." Oh god, Dean knows exactly which spots to hit.

"Hey, it's Sam. Um, where are you guys?" He asks, obviously confused at my moans.

"Heaven," I reply laughing, my titters broken every now and then by Dean's expertise.

"What? Where exactly are you?" He sounds worried now. Who could be worried about anything at a time like this?

"Hmmm, uhh," I hum under Dean's careful touch. "We're at- ooh Dean keep doing that- at the club. Oonf... " I reply hazily.

"Which one?" He sounds desperate now.

"Feath- Oh God, I have to have you Dean." I drop the phone from my shaking fingers and pull myself up on the couch fully, letting Dean have his way with me. I don't think I actually ended the call but it doesn't matter, because I have Dean, and Dean has me. Our lips a seal that nothing can break. I hear words coming from the phone, then the chiming dial tone, and we are alone, unravelling in each other's arms, wanting nothing more than to spend eternity locked in our tight grasp.

I don't know how long it's been, but suddenly I hear a small tinkling bell. I recognise that sound. And I feel like I should get up off Dean and put clothes on. I feel quite bare all of a sudden. Something deep within me stirs, and I feel like I should remember what it is, but I can't quite put my finger on it.

The door flies open and I turn to see Sam staring at us, my keys in hand. His eyes are bulging, and I can see he's debating whether to cover his eyes or pull me off Dean. He goes for the latter. He grabs my arm, and i'm pulled away from the comfortable sofa. Sam looks at the floor and picks my clothes up, handing them to me.

"Go get changed over there." He says, pointing to an old-fashioned partition by the wall. I sulk away.

Now it's Dean's turn.

"What the hell man?!" Sam yells. "Can you seriously not understand the concept of 'not having sex with the same person your brother is'? Is it that difficult to comprehend?"

I pull on my underwear and wrestle into the skinny jeans again. Those were definitely not suitable to wear today, of all days. At least I looked hot.

It seems like Dean's coming out of a dream because he doesn't reply for a second before he chokes out: "Siren."

"What are you talking about?"

I pull the tank top over my head.

"The... The siren, dude."

I walk out to see Dean still naked, with the throw off the sofa covering him.

He looks up at me. "Oh... Oh my God... SON OF A BITCH!" He shouts angrily.

I turn pink, suddenly remembering why we were here in the first place. But then I remember that this is no time for messing around.

"Just go get your clothes on Dean, and let's just forget this whole mess until the bastard's been ganked, okay?" I throw his clothes to him, and he grabs them, wrapping himself up in the throw and waddling awkwardly over to the partition. And, oh god, there's a tent in the fabric.

"So at least we know it's here." I say, breaking the silence.

Sam just sort of half glares at me. I feel like I should say something, but I don't know what to say. I don't want to treat him like an idiot by telling his some bullshit like: It was entirely the siren's fault- I had no control! He already knows that. So should I go over and kiss him? But then he'd be thinking about how i'd just been kissing Dean with those same lips. First-world problems, much? So I stick to dignified, (however little dignity I may have left), silence.


	11. Lessons in Tacos

We sit and wait for Dean to get changed in silence. Sam and Dean take the Impala back to the motel, while I take the Thunderbird. It's too quiet. But, from the stony looks Dean and Sam were passing each other before we left, I had a feeling it'd be exactly the same noise level in the Impala. But when we get back to the motel, I see they've beaten me there and are talking excitedly, well, as excitedly as full-grown men do.

"Jane!" Sam calls me over as he sees me pull up. "We got it!"

"Got what?" I say, my tone a little colder than was fair, really, but I was still embarrassed and beating myself up.

"A sample." He says, pointing at Dean. I walk over to them but keep my distance, subtly.

"Oh, great!" I try to sound enthusiastic. I feel enthused, but my voice isn't really communicating my emotions well at the moment.

"Yeah, and Bobby's told us that a guys he knows says that even though the oxytocin fades, the venom stays in a host for about two days longer than it would last in a fridge. So we've got a walking weapon right here." He pats Dean on the shoulder.

"Cool." Dean doesn't look like a happy chappy. At all.

"What about her?" He points at me accusingly. "Couldn't she do it?"

"Dude, we didn't even know sirens could create lust between two other people, completely outside of themselves. You were infected straight from the source. You wanna risk using her, and it not working?" Sam replies protectively.

Dean mumbles unintelligibly, and I hear a few 'whatever's thrown about.

"Okay, so where to from here?" I say, glad that most of the awkwardness has subsided.

"I don't know." He admits. "Check out The Cat's Eye tonight, and see what we get from that?"

"Sounds like my kind of plan." Dean interjects, a smile crossing his face for a second.

We head up into their room and Sam works his techno-mojo on the computer, showing us what he's found out about the murderers. Which appears to be Jack squat.

"I've hacked into every police station, sheriff's office and news station around these parts- nothing. Well, nothing new."

"So hacking isn't going to help us then." I summarise. "We already know everything we can, and now it's just a case of right time, right place." I look down at my hands in my lap, fingers tracing over my scars and wounds. Normal twenty-three year-olds don't have these scars. But of course, i'm not a normal twenty-three year-old.

"Well, i'm getting hungry. Anyone else hungry?" Dean asks. Sam and I nod.

"Taco Bell?" He grins, hinting heavily that he wants one of us to go this time.

"Sure." I reply. "You can go fetch it then."

"But I did it last time, why do I-"

"Sam pulled us outta that whole mess back there. I'm a woman, i'm meant to cook. If people see my buying takeaways it's embarrassing." I manage to find an excuse for both Sam and I to stay behind.

"Fine then. I'll make sure they put extra hot sauce on yours." He quips at us. Little does he know that their hot sauce actually tastes more like sweet chilli sauce.

"Yeah, you do that Dean." Sam tells him, ushering him out the door with his wallet. Dean seems like he wants to play a stubborn two-year-old and not move. I pick up my keys and throw them to him.

"You can take her if you don't add hot sauce." I bargain.

"Done deal." Dean agrees instantly. This may be a good bargaining chip in the future.

He walks out the door, whistling some old tune, swinging my keys around on their ring, my little bell tinkling quietly.

I shut the door and turn to Sam. I can't seem to read his expression. So I don't speak, I don't try to make a move on him. I walk over and put my arms around him.

He hesitates for a moment, before returning my embrace and wrapping me up in his strong, dependable arms. I think i've found the right thing to say.

"If it makes you feel any better..." I begin. "I slapped Dean in the face and gave him a bleeding nose before we left."

I look up and see his face flicker through a series of different emotions. Sadness, laughter, betrayal, confusion. He finally chooses one to stick with, and laughs.

"How long did it bleed for?" He asks, chuckling darkly.

"From just when I hit him, until we were almost at the police department, so about 20 minutes."

He laughs again. "I could never manage to make him bleed for more than about ten minutes, then again, I wasn't really trying that much."

I let go and walk over to the kitchen. I open the fridge, and sure enough, there's a few beers nestled in it's depths.

"Wanna beer?" I call over my shoulder.

"Sure," He laughs "Thanks for offering me my own drinks." I pull out two cold bottles and walk back into the main room. Sam is sitting on the small couch, and I pass one to him, lumping myself down beside him. Sam begins to search his pockets for something, and I twist the cap off my beer, taking a refreshing sip. Sam finally pulls out a Swiss-army knife and flicks each component out, looking for what I believe to be an elusive bottle opener. I grab his bottle off the cushion and twist it open for him.

"Thanks." He looks a little embarrassed.

The curtain behind me rustles and Sam looks up. I hear a muffled voice and before I can comprehend what it's trying to communicate, I stand up and whip around. I see a man in a long pale trench coat holding a takeaway bag, looking confused.

"Jesus!" I yell, jumping back a step.

"No, i'm Castiel. Pleasure to meet you Jane. Dean's just been telling me about you." He replies matter-of-factly.

"Oh, um..." I'm a little surprised. "Is this the angel dude you guys talked about? Cas?"

"Yes," Sam says. "That's our Cas."

"I do find it nice that Dean uses an affectionate nickname for me even when i'm not around." Cas' smile is so genuinely pleased that I find myself feeling like i'm looking at an orphan who's just been given a bag of gummy bears and told he can eat them all.

"Oh, are you and Dean... Together?" I ask cautiously.

"Not officially, but I do sense some underlying sexual tension that neither of us mention."

He sits down at the table casually and opens his bag.

"I've never had a taco before, this should be interesting." He pulls it out and inspects it carefully.

"I thought you didn't need to eat, Cas." Sam ponders.

"I don't, but after the whole famine situation, i've begun eating. My vessel enjoys it, and well, so do I." He takes a bite out of his taco and half of the filling ends up on the wrapper lain out on the table.

"Oopsh." Castiel mumbles.

"Try eating it side-on Cas." Sam prompts, and Castiel tries to scoop the filling back into its shell to try again.

We are distracted from teaching the angel how to eat tacos, by the door clicking open and the rustle of bags in hand.

"Hey guys," Dean calls from the door. "I told Cas he could hang out with us today-"

"I'm alreabby here Bean." Cas mumbles through his taco. Dean closes the door and turns around.

"Oh, hey. Did you manage to find anything?"

Cas finishes his mouthful before speaking this time. "Yeah, i'd say go with the plan to go to The Cat's Eye tonight- there's definitely something not right around there."

"Well, at least we have a clue what we're doing now." Dean plonks himself down on a chair and sits the bag on the table. He rummages around in it, pulling out a paper bag and opening it. I pull the bag over towards me and reach in, grabbing Sam's bag out as well as mine, and handing it to him.

"So what are we going to do until then? We've got..." I look over at Sam's watch. "Four hours to spare."

"We do what we always do. Sit around, watch bad tv, and eat." Dean replies.

"Sounds like a plan to me." Sam concludes.


	12. A Bit of Fun

Three hours later, we are sitting around laughing as we each take turns to share some cases we've solved, or nearly died in. Great fun, surprisingly.

"-And then we get him in a ring of holy fire and Cas turns to him and says 'Today, you're my little bitch.' Then he walks out! I'm just left standing there after this great comeback, so I just awkwardly say 'What he said' and follow him!"

We all laugh at Dean's story, my sides aching after how much of that we've been doing.

"What about the time we were in that tv land that Gabriel made up?" Sam adds. "The archangel Gabriel wanted to stay in hiding, so he made himself a trickster. He got us to this old warehouse and suddenly we were in a hospital, and Dean got shot, so I had to do surgery on him." He laughs. "He put us into heaps of different things, there was like, a sexual health commercial, a cop drama-"

"Don't forget about the whole Japanese game show." Dean interjects.

"A Japanese game show?" I dissolve into laughter and rest my head against Sam's shoulder. This is nice. Sitting around with friends, eating tacos and sharing stories that we can't share with anyone else. And the fact that i'm pretty much sitting on Sam's lap makes everything about 2000% better.

"Yeah, the guy called it 'Nutcracker'. We were strapped into these boots- like ski boots- we couldn't move, and we had to answer a question- which he asked us in freaking Japanese, might I add- correctly, within 30 seconds or something. I didn't because, hell, I can't speak Japanese! And so the timer goes off, and this giant sort of metal arm thing shoots up and hits me in the balls."

"What!" I laugh with him and wait to hear the rest of the story.

"It's true! Then it's Dean's turn, and somehow he manages to miraculously learn Japanese in about ten seconds AND get the right answer."

"Yeah, but I tried. And you managed to sew me up in the hospital, so why couldn't I learn Japanese?"

"Dude, I already knew how to sew you up, i've been doing it for years. I just didn't know how to use their stupid equipment. Hell, i'd have been able to fix you up with a knife, brandy, an old sweater and a knitting needle, but hand me properly sterilised equipment and fancy tools? I'd kill you." He laughs, and I can feel his shoulder move with his soft chuckles.

"Well it was instinctual then. Maybe i'm secretly asian." He squints and clasps his hands together as if in prayer. "Well done young glasshopper." He bows to Castiel, who bows back and mutters something in another language. Sam and I break out in raucous laughter.

"You speak Japanese?" Dean asks.

"Angels instinctively know how to speak all languages of earth."

"Huh. Cool." Dean mutters.

Sam unwraps his left arm around me for a second, looking at his wrist. "Oh hey, guys. Check out the time- we'd better get ready." He pulls his arms away, letting me, unwillingly, sit upright and give him room to move away. I sit on the couch for a second longer, remembering the comfort it held, before standing up and going to my room to get changed.

I leaf through the various outfits lumped into my bag, and spot a sparkly gold number with black mesh shoulder straps and upper chest. Maybe going under cover's gonna be a bit more fun than usual.

I walk over the guys' room, my heels clacking against the dull grey linoleum floor. I open the door and see Castiel watching the screen of Sam's laptop on the couch, Sam bent over the small table, sorting out I.D's, and Dean sitting on the bed, with a phone to his ear, murmuring with a tone of annoyance apparent in his voice. I click the door shut, and Sam turns towards the noise.

His eyes glance up quickly, and seeing that it's me, goes back to his work. He then does a double-take and his head whips round to look at me. His eyebrows shoot up, and his eyes seem to go glassy for a second before he snaps out of his reverie and walks over to me.

"I'll assume you like it then." I say, grinning cheekily at him.

"You look... Wow." He says, being incredibly descriptive. The other two turn around, and I feel Dean's eyes looking me up and down.

"You look good." He says, surprising me by saying something casually nice. "You trying to get a job there?" He laughs. But, of course, Dean is required by law to say something totally coarse to make up for being normal.

"You're just jealous I look this good." I wrap my arms around Sam and feel his face nuzzling into my hair.

Castiel is ignoring the conversation, probably because the website he's on seems to be porn.

"Is he..?" I trail off, directing my question at Dean.

"Uh-huh. Can't take his eyes off it, bless his heart. Our little boy's growin' up Sammy." He sounds like a parent who's just taught his kid to ride a bike.

"Dean, I don't understand." Castiel suddenly pipes up..

"What is it this time Cassie?" Dean replies, a smile creasing the corners of his eyes.

"If this woman's car has broken down, and this man has stopped to help her, why do they end up having sex? Perhaps it's going to take a while and they need to pass the time." The angel contemplates.

"It's because the people who watch porn generally have no sex life and need to be reassured that they can pick up a hot chick off the side of the road and bang her, without having to get attached." I answer for Dean, though I don't think that's the explanation he has in mind, as he looks shot down.

"I do expect that would be the reason, but why are there so many websites in this device's search history similar to this?" Castiel enquires casually.

I turn and look at Sam, whose arms have wrapped around my waist, and his head rested on my shoulder. I raise my eyebrows questioningly. I don't actually care; I just want to see him flounder. I'll be committed to a psychiatric ward any day now.

"Don't look at me," he replies, "Blame Mister Frisky over there." He jabs his thumb in the direction of Dean.

"Well whatever, there's nothin' wrong with a bit of fun, right Cas?"

"That is true, I enjoy monopoly, and there's no harm in playing that, if i'm not mistaken." He replies innocently.

Castiel continues on talking about board games, I lose all pretence of interest after he begins his spiel about the Twilight board game.


	13. Electrifying

"But I don't understand the idea of Stephenie Meyer's vampires, it's simply impractical to sparkle in the sunlight, and werewolves definitely don't communicate through telepathy." Castiel continues sharing his knowledge of hunting and applying it to the Twilight Series.

Sam and I are sitting on one of the two small beds, I have my head in his lap, and he is playing with my hair, braiding small locks.

"I much prefer the Harry Potter series, by J.K. Rowling. Imaginative, shows magic in a new light that isn't completely barbaric and ridiculous, in fact-"

"Hey, I forgot to mention what Bobby told me on the phone earlier." Dean interrupts, thank God.

"Shoot." I prompt.

"Well apparently what we're hunting may not be a siren."

"What?" Sam punctuates the surprised atmosphere. I sit up, accidentally bumping my head into Sam's chin. A few stray braids stick out at odd angles.

"Same thing I said, but it's definitely not any siren we know of, simply because it managed to manifest lust in two other people, one completely separate from the actual creature." He informs us.

"Well, do we know of anything that works in the same way?" Sam asks.

"I haven't seen anything like it before, nothing in dad's journal either."

"Well has Bobby got any ideas?" Sam's becoming desperate now.

"Nothing. Says he's never heard of anything that does that- short of a cupid, but even they can't do it that strongly, and they create love, not intense lust." He keeps his eyes averted from me, and I understand. But why he looks to Cas is a mystery.

"So not a succubus or incubus then?"

"Succubi and incubi don't create lust, they just sort of take." Sam informs me.

"So... Something new then?"

"I guess so," Dean replies, sighing heavily. "That bitch just won't give up, will she?"

I'm confused by his comment to say the least.

"Who's this bitch you speak of?"

"The mother of all." Castiel answers. " She was let out of purgatory and all monsters are her offspring."

"Excellent. Really excellent. Some chick who makes monsters for a living, up and about on earth. Fantastic." I curse aloud and stand up; deciding that pacing will help me clear my head. "So we have no idea how to kill it or how it can kill us?"

"Nope, that's the fun of it, sweetie." Dean insults me from across the room, opening a bottle of liquor.

"I wouldn't call me that, remember what happened last time, sweetie." I clench my hand menacingly.

I see his posture change from nonchalant leaning against the table, to sitting down and crossing his arms protectively, glass in hand. Almost unknowingly of him I suppose. I get so used to being able to control all of my actions with conviction that I don't remember that others have the subconscious movements that nature has provided for them.

"Anyway..." Sam looks at us, confused. I shake my head, indicating i'll explain later. "Well, anyway. Yeah, we don't know exactly how to kill it, but a pretty surefire way to start is, well, fire. No pun was intended, by the way."

"So, we bring a lighter and a can of bug spray? I don't think that'll fit on me inconspicuously." I pat myself down, indicating my tight dress and small bag.

"Well, we're not just gonna go in there with one line of defence." Dean stands up and walks over to a duffel bag, giving me a wide berth.

"Here's what you're bringing in." He rummages in the bag for a second then pulls out what seems to be an ordinary knife.

Until he moves and the light catches it's surface. Four tones gleam out at me, and I identify bronze, copper, silver and iron, all taking up a quarter of the knife's surface area.

"Wow."

"Quarter silver, copper, iron and bronze. Under the cover, handle's a stake varnished with dead man's blood."

"Does it still work when it's been worked into the stake like that?"

"Seems to work for us." He hands it to me, along with a holster.

I take them, and work my skirt up from around my thighs, revealing my skin-tight shorts beneath. I strap the knife on my left leg so my right hand can reach it with more ease, and shimmy my skirt back down. The holster's good. It's not too tight, and it doesn't chafe. I look back up, and the guys are sorting out guns, knives, different types of bullets- and something I didn't expect.

"Tazers?" I ask, incredulous.

"We met this thing that reacted to electricity once." Sam fields my question.

"Lovely." I reply, taking another weapon and placing it down my top.

"Okay, we all ready?" Dean asks, throwing a bag of salt into his pocket, along with a bottle of holy water.

"Yup." I think about the knife strapped to my leg, and the miniaturized gun in my bra.

"Roll out." Dean takes his keys from the table, and ushers us all out of the room.

We walk out to the impala, equipped with enough to kill an army of supernatural beings. Party hard. I'm regretting my choice to wear this without stockings- my legs are getting cold and I feel bare.

Sam ushers me into the back seat, and I slide across the ice-cold leather to let him in beside me. Castiel sits shotgun with Dean driving. The good thing about being in the back is that Sam is here, and I can get close without anyone being any the wiser.

Sam's arm wraps around my shoulder and I lean into him, feeling safe enclosed in his grip.

I realise my teeth are chattering, and try to stop them when Sam's other hand occupies itself by cupping my face and bringing me towards him. My head tilts to the left and our lips seal together, mimicking each other's fluid movements. His hand strays to my leg, and I give a small shudder as he gently brushes his capable fingers along my inner thigh. My breath becomes more rapid, and I run my hand along his chest, down his abdominals, and over the zipper of his jeans teasingly. I bit his lip cautiously, and he pulls his hand from my thigh and grasps my waist, pulling me closer, crushing his lips against mine- meeting no resistance from me. I swing my legs, wrapping them around his, intertwining us as much as I possibly can. By the time i'm finished with him, we'll be in knots.

"Aw c'mon dude, not in my car, that's my place to get girls." Dean interrupts our interlude, and I remember that we're in Dean's car on the way to a case. My dress seems to have ridden up a fair bit, so I tug it back down to it's original position halfway to my knee.

"How long 'til we get there?" I try to regain a little dignity in front the angel of the lord- but he doesn't seem to care, in fact, he's staring directly at Dean, for what looks to me as an uncomfortably long time. Dean isn't phased, he just keeps driving. Sam looks to his watch.

"About 15 minutes." I sigh, and nuzzle closer to Sam. Castiel still hasn't moved his glance from Dean. I see what Cas means about underlying sexual tension, but it seems a little one-sided... Unless i'm not imagining Dean's glances back towards him...


	14. Last Man Standing

"Entry for three?" I ask, handing over my I.D. The security gorilla at the door grunts unintelligibly, nodding us in. My senses are suddenly engulfed by a vibrant array of colours, sounds and scents, and I can almost taste the desperation in the room. A herd of pubescent teenagers are gathered around the stage like flies around a fresh carcass, and I cringe as a few more dart past us, leaving the scent of cheap cologne wafting around in the stale air.

"Would it kill them to open a window in here or something?" Sam asks, and the brothers look extremely uncomfortable in their usual ten thousand layers, but our resident angel doesn't seem bothered by the heat, despite him having as many- well, probably more- layers than them.

"Cas, want to do a sweep of the place?" Dean asks. I expect Cas to get up and angel himself around to have a look, but instead he just sits there, eyes blank and unmoving.

After a minute of awkwardly standing around in silence, the terrible techno music around us blaring, Castiel finally speaks. "There does not appear to be anything supernatural in or around this establishment."

"So then why are we here?" Dean shouts over the noise.

"Bobby told us to check it out, and it was connected- two of the murderers are connected to this place." I point out.

"Well there's nothing here, so should we-"

"Cas, could you check the surrounding buildings too?" I cut Dean off and turn to Castiel. He looks mildly annoyed. The angel gives a slight nod, almost questioning, before going blank again.

He comes back to us faster this time, only taking about twenty seconds.

"I still cannot find any evidence of supernatural activity."

"Well that was a complete waste of time, why didn't we ask Cas to check from the motel?" Dean complains loudly, but no-one's listening.

"Okay, we can head off then?" Sam asks.

"I don't see why not. Any objections?" The group stays silent, so we trudge back to the car, through rain that wasn't there five minutes ago.

"I told you to park closer, Dean!" Sam groans as we half-run down a side street to get to the impala. I'm slowly becoming more and more irritated by a few pieces of gravel that have found refuge in my shoes. The only one who doesn't seem in the least flustered by the rain is Castiel. In fact, he seems to be getting sick of our complaints, and ends up zapping us the rest of the way.

I open the left rear door and step inside, shaking my hair around and feeling droplets of moisture cascading down the back of my neck. Shivers run down to my bones and Sam jumps in the other side, pulling me against him, sharing warmth. His jacket is slid over to me, and I pull the slightly damp material towards me gratefully, wrapping it around my shoulders, feeling Sam's arms shuffle back into place around me.

I now have two layers of protection, but it seems like i'm not getting any warmer. My arms and legs still prickle with the familiar feeling of goose bumps, my shivers unrelenting. The car still isn't moving, though I see Dean's hand poised to turn the key. My eyes flicker to Sam. His hair flutters slightly under my heavy breath, but he doesn't move. His limbs are still soft, fleshy- but unmoving around me. I wriggle out from his grasp and sit up, looking around.

"Dean? Cas?" My eyes dart around, heart rate increasing.

"J... Jane?" A voice stutters out in a surprised tone, sounding muffled.

Scanning the car, I see that Sam, Dean and Cas have not moved. So who's talking?

Fumbling slightly, my fingers click open the door and I step out into the rain. It's stopped falling, but it's also stopped moving altogether. As I step into the deluge, raindrops move around me, accommodating me and moving around me each step.

'Cameron?'

The familiar pale face smiles timidly at me, showing his missing right canine from his accident. Of course this face is familiar, it's been staring out at me from my wallet for the last few years. Haunting my memories, plaguing my thoughts. Am I grateful to see it again? Give me a while to decide.

"What are you?" My voice turns to ice in my throat and I shiver, coughing. I reach for my knife, but I am distracted by what feels like nails in my oesophagus. I wrap a cold hand around my neck, feeling the skin distort grotesquely- rippling and shifting, twisting, writhing.

"-Shook me all night long."  
I wake with a start, shivers running up my spine, a cool sweat starting to bead on my forehead.

"Is she awake?" A gravelly tone disrupts my assessment of my surroundings, but it doesn't really matter, everything here is fuzzy. All black and warm and fuzzy.

"Jane, can you hear me?" I hear a smoother voice question.

"You've got a nice voice, y'know is' kinda flowy and bumpy at the same time kinda, you get me? Yeah... Jus' kinda... Yeeeah." My voice crackles across the warm, circulated air.

"Woah, woah, woah, is she stoned?" The voice of gravel inquires accusingly.

I reach down to my foot, picking a piece of gravel out from it and throw it at Dean. Itg lances off his cheek and I giggle sedately. "No, you're stoned." I go to giggle again, but the nails in my throat have returned.

I taste the metallic tang of blood and I cough, spitting red and something else out of my mouth. I hear the tinkle of something landing on the asphalt and turn over to see shards of glass glinting grotesquely at me, muted by a shiny red layer of blood.

"Hex bags! Check for hex bags!" Sam's voice cuts through my clouded mind as the brothers frantically search the car for small bags of hoodoo magic. My throat is raw and my blood is thundering through my ears so loudly that it feels like there is a never ending drumbeat rolling through my head.

A cry wafts its way into my hazy consciousness and I see the telltale blue flames. My throat is clear again, though ragged, and I spit out the remaining blood. Someone hands me a bottle, and I sniff it to make sure it's water. My mouth stings as I rinse out the blood, and I can still feel the ghost of sharp edges slicing me from the inside out.

"Let's get you in the car, I don't feel like you getting hypothermia will help the situation. That was definitely more than enough almost-death for one day." Sam jokes half-heartedly, pulling my arm over his shoulders to help me into the leather interior of the Impala.

"Yeah. More than enough." I grip him tightly as we slide across the warm seat. My head lolls against his shoulder and he pulls me closer, radiating warmth and comfort. I am asleep in seconds.


End file.
